House of Leaves
by ALC Punk
Summary: Elizabeth copes with her memories of the world the replicators showed her in The Real World, with the help of a few friends.


Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: eh. 13ish.  
SPOILERS: Big ones, for 'The Real World.  
Set: post episode.  
Length: 1,600+ genre: Gen. gen gen gen.  
Prompt: Sleeping/bed themes (having to share a bed because of necessity; sharing a sleeping bag for warmth; sex while drowsy or sleeping; sex as a sleep aid; falling asleep against someone's shoulder; watching someone sleep; dreams or nightmares) 

_**House of Leaves**_ by ALC Punk!

She can still remember the sour taste in her mouth from the drugs they gave her.

It wasn't real--none of it was real. But that doesn't matter, because the taste is still there. So is the memory of waking up in a cold white room. Seeing orderlies watch her as though they expected her to go psychotic (shouldn't have hit that one, though the punch had been perfectly placed--Teyla would have been proud). And General O'Neill, twisting into Dr. Fletcher...

Elizabeth considers talking to Dr. Heightmeyer, but she knows Kate has far too many people needing her. And Liz knows she will get over it. She always gets over things, it's how she works.

She can remember sitting in a chair, eyes covered, the scent of dank walls, the feel of humidity against her skin, and the overwhelming certainty that at any moment the genii could simply kill her. They didn't have to honor their promises. Even now, she's not entirely certain why they did.

They kept her waiting for hours, fingers and toes slowly getting cold. Until she wanted to move, but didn't.

Some part of her knew that movement, even to alleviate physical discomfort, was part of the game. And if she moved, she would lose.

And then they let her go. They didn't explain, they just gave her the warheads and walked her to the gate.

Working through that had been easy. Even without sleep, her hands were steady, her mind sharp. And the wraith had been invading. There was no time for her to fall apart on them. No time to dwell on being held captive in uncertainty.

Of course, when it was over, there were reports to write and arguments to make to the UN oversight committee. And Caldwell to rule over.

And by the time she considered it again, it was in the past. Gone.

There's less to do now. And if she sleeps, instead of watching the gate silently, she'll dream.

White walls and the smell of disinfectant will wrap around her until she waits, expecting to be locked in that world again.

She only needs a little more time. Maybe a day of sunlight and the air of Atlantis. Maybe a crisis.

And she feels guilty at wanting a crisis to bury her own thoughts in.

If nothing else, come morning she thinks she will stand on her balcony and gaze out at the horizon.

The scent of Atlantis isn't something that would ever be found in an asylum.

"Elizabeth."

Of course Teyla would turn up after she's sent Sheppard off to sleep. Elizabeth doesn't turn to look at her, fingers still playing absently with her father's watch. "My parents bought me a telescope when I was twelve."

"Yes." Teyla's hand touches her shoulder. "You have mentioned it on more than one occasion. Tell me."

"It wasn't the greatest model, but I used to take it out on clear nights and I'd catalogue the stars, starting with Polaris." It's a stupid conversation. Her hand clenches into a fist around the pocket watch.

"But it gave you something to dream of."

"Yeah." She shoots Teyla a look, noting the understanding in the Athosian's eyes. And suddenly, Elizabeth wonders if maybe what Dr. Fletcher said might have been a half-truth. Bottling things up... "Teyla, when you first realized you could sense the wraith, did you have nightmares?"

It's Teyla's turn to look away, to shift into an unconscious protective stance. As if the memory is something she can fight with her fists.

And perhaps she can.

"Nightmares are, as Dr. Heightmeyer says, something which we all experience."

It's the only answer she'll get, most likely. Elizabeth nods. "I know, intellectually, that they're the mind's way of dealing with the events of the day. I just..."

"You do not wish to experience them."

"No."

Teyla smiles. "You would not be who you are if you wished to truly never remember the bad things in life."

Not remembering is the worst idea of all. Elizabeth lets her own lips form a smile. It might not quite reach her eyes, but it's more genuine than the one she pasted on for Carson earlier, "We are the sum of our memories, or so I've read."

"If you two are done with the soul-searching, there's a bottle of tequila just dying to be drunk," interrupts a bored voice.

Elizabeth blinks at Laura Cadman, "Lieutenant."

"Doctor."

"Tequila sounds lovely," Teyla notes, tone amused.

Cadman hefts her bottle, "I thought so. Where?"

"Balcony," decides Elizabeth without giving it much thought.

The walk is short, and she has no time to dwell on the intelligence of drinking alcohol after a lifetime like the one she's lived in five hours. Stepping onto the balcony, they're greeted with a breeze. It dances along, tugging at Elizabeth's hair, and she wonders if this is the real reason she's been letting it grow--so the wind has something to play with.

Elizabeth pauses to stare out over the darkness of the water, then gives in to Cadman's tug and drops down to sit cross-legged, her back to the balustrade. Teyla sits to her left, Cadman to her right. "I get the first shot."

"Agreed."

Taking the bottle, Elizabeth grins into the darkness, "To absent-minded fools."

"That's a horrible toast," Laura objects, after Elizabeth's finished her first swallow.

The burn down her throat is different from the taste of pills she didn't want, and Elizabeth revels in it before considering briefly, "To treaties made."

A snort from Cadman, and then the blonde confiscates the bottle. "To explosions!"

"Here, here," Teyla murmurs in amusement before taking the bottle herself. Liz doesn't intercept it, though she's tempted. "To the many children that will one day be the leaders of our people."

"Children? What children? I'm so not--"

Elizabeth grabs the bottle, "To jumpers that don't crash."

"Hah! Stop letting McKay near them," was Laura's advice.

"Dr. McKay does have a tendency to cause difficulties," replies Teyla, apparently hedging between team loyalty and the acknowledgment of reality.

"Screw McKay. Did I ever tell you guys about the bar on P3X-45A?"

Bar? Elizabeth doesn't remember a bar from Cadman's mission report. "Do tell." She confiscates the bottle before it goes to Teyla again.

So Laura starts off, and it's convoluted, and totally makes no sense--there's a pool table, apparently. By the time the explosives expert is halfway through, Liz is beginning to feel the tequila. The night above spins crazily for a moment when she tips her head back. It's nice, in a way. She can name a handful of the stars--some are just designations that Rodney's team have come up with. Others are from Teyla and the Athosians.

When Laura mentions a motorcycle, Elizabeth decides calling her bluff is pointless, and laughs right into the midst of her next shot.

She lists to one side, not even noticing when Teyla retrieves the bottle from her limp hand. She thinks there's something she's supposed to be doing as she lets her eyes close. Laura's voice continues droning on, talking about a wraith patrol, a large quantity of explosives and McKay's inability to fix a jumper.

-

Elizabeth doesn't remember drifting off, but she remembers waking.

The scent of the ocean hits her, and then the tequila. The pillow under her left shoulder is bony, and she realizes a moment later than she's leaning on Teyla.

She straightens, ignoring the twinge in her neck. "Sorry."

"You needed the rest," Teyla replies, one hand toying with the bottle in the half-light from the now-risen second moon. It appears to be mostly empty.

"Cadman?"

"She has an early shift."

Elizabeth bites back the feeling that she should have known that. Even though she'd like to, she certainly doesn't have the duty roster of Atlantis memorized. Not to mention everyone's varying schedules. "Oh."

"You will sleep now?"

It all comes back, then. The memories, the reason for the late night and the alcohol. Elizabeth sucks in a breath and rubs at the sore spot on her cheek from Teyla's shoulder. It helps clear her mind a little. She laughs, the sound a mixture of irony and bitterness. "I think I will, actually."

"Good." Teyla rises, then holds her free hand out to Elizabeth.

Taking it, she allows Teyla to pull her up, her legs protesting their misuse. She releases Teyla's hand and bends to massage legs. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Elizabeth." It's an Earth collloquialism she's probably picked up from Sheppard.

Elizabeth stays bent over until Teyla is gone. Until there's nothing but her and the night air. The tequila fumes dance gently along her nerves. Straighetning, she gives the sky one last look, then heads for her own bed.

Perhaps she will sleep tonight.

-f


End file.
